Cacophony of Whispers
The madness within, short fiction
Jacob and Zena were one, yet not one
Their stories unfolded in tandem, creating a web of shared struggles, peculiar choices, and the underlying currents of the human experience that bound them together in their strange world.
In the quaint coastal town where the scent of saltwater mingled with the earthy aroma of bait shop worms, Jacob, with tattered work gloves, found solace in the familiar routine of his surroundings. The hours of hard labour etched stories onto his hands, and the bait shop became a refuge from the isolation of his house, a place where he could grumble to himself and scoop out handfuls of worms.
On his fiftieth birthday, amid the mundane, he stumbled upon extraordinary news, a revelation begging to be shared. Yet, the loneliness of his existence left him with only the company of worms to revel in the moment. The decision to live by the big beats manifesto and the realization that every decision not to change was, in fact, a change, created a rhythm in his quiet life.
In his spare time, he turned the act of picking up trash into an acceptable art, creating garbage that mirrored his efficiency at removing it. “Sometimes you have to give up and win by cheating,” he mused, embracing a philosophy that not all who wander are lost, and doing nothing is still a choice.
As the months passed, eccentricity embraced him. He wore sunglasses at night, unknowingly took up sleepwalking, and contemplated the appreciation of a toenail collection as unintentional art. Hidden stashes beneath the floorboards hinted at stories untold.
The decision to entertain guests took a bizarre turn when he put heat on a wound to see what would grow. The irony of the situation hung heavy in the air, and he clung to the hope that one day it would all make sense. As he sipped a drink and contemplated a secret code, his dream world continued undisturbed.
Meanwhile, in the same coastal town, Zena, a woman with a tint of craziness in her soul pondered her place in the world too. She stood on a mental bridge with the belief that enchantment awaited on the other side. Yet in one instant, everything was to change, and a shared memory was to become incoherent.
It wasn’t yet dark, but the struggle from child to childish to childlike was palpable.
She was an introvert loved by extroverts, sitting on a trash can on the side walk, with high street class. A woman with the ability to paint songs, she observed Jacob across the road, waiting and watching.
The windswept hair of a woman in a black convertible marked the beginning of a new chapter. A minor collision, details exchanged, but the casket in the rear hinted at a different story.
A deafening shot pierced the air, leaving a wasteful silence.
The fear escalated as the rental car stopped on a dark road, and a decision had to be made about the lifeless figure within.
In a slot canyon, a gurney towed behind, secrets and challenges unfolded. The thick foliage made the journey almost impossible, and the distant sound of thunder added an eerie backdrop.
Three years later, a coffin filled with Jello and leaking grape jelly washed up on the beach. A woman marvelled at the ice chunks while fulfilling a burial-at-sea wish.
That year, love found a new vessel, and a Tiki bar on the edge of town set the stage for a fresh start.
In the strange bar, two vacant seats awaited, and Jacob barked orders at a bemused barman. Spitting olive pits across the table, he sought attention with a blend of courage and stupidity, his bald head making him appear even hairier. Zena sat with him, holding his hand, the old fingerless work glove still covering his bony fingers.
Jacob’s habits had shifted once more, with Zena introducing fasting plans and the challenge of skipping meals. But Jacob was a man 100% into fasting until he realized it meant not eating, and he navigated the delicate balance between love and dietary restrictions.
As tempers flared between them and complaints filled the air, Jacob chose a different path. Instead of appeasing her, he watched the tantrum unfold, admiring his own calmness before the storm. With a sense of inevitability, he knew it would be different this time. Sometimes, that’s just the way it has to be.
A waistband explosion marked an end and a beginning, reaching up to the cracked ceiling.
It took a week to clean up the aftermath.
